Nobody Knows
by cutepet
Summary: Mycroft brought Sherlock back to save London once again, but before he reveals himself to John, he has one stop to make. TEH and canon compliant. My take on what happened in that locker room. Part One of the 'In the Interim' series.


10/5/2014: edited to fix typo

* * *

Sherlock Holmes walked past the private car waiting for him outside Mycroft's office. No use making it easy on him; Mycroft was sure to find out eventually, but for now Sherlock wanted to keep this one little secret. He walked a few blocks and around a corner before hailing a taxi, "Barts hospital please."

* * *

"_Make yourself at home," she twittered away, nervously closing cabinets and shoving the tell-tale signs of an occupied flat into already overstuffed spaces, straightening up for a man who shouldn't be, and technically wasn't, alive._

"_Don't bother, Molly, I won't be here long." _

"_Oh. Okay," a pause, "coffee?"_

_He sighed heavily, acting put out even though he craved the familiarity. "If you must. Black, two sugars." He thrust his shaking hands into his Belstaff._

* * *

Sherlock took a deep breath and gazed upon the familiar scene before him. The buildings hadn't changed. Moriarty's blood had been scrubbed away ages ago, surely. Everything looked exactly as it had the last time he stood on this rooftop, as if nothing had happened. As if he had never been there.

Mycroft said John had moved on, wasn't even living at 221B anymore. He once thought that if their dynamic had changed, if he or John or Mrs. Hudson ever left Baker Street, London would fall. But here he was. Everything was the same. Nothing had changed.

Sherlock shuffled closer to the edge, peering over the side. Maybe…

He pulled himself back, quickly. No use playing with those thoughts. His hands grasped the soft, stolen fabric inside the pocket of his coat. He'd forgotten it was even there. He pulled it out, examining the lace trim. Had she moved on as well?

He turned toward the stairwell door, smiling with the memory of her, easily accessed from heavy usage these past two years. Time to find out.

* * *

_Molly whimpered in pain when Sherlock bit at her lip roughly, but moaned as he licked it better. He took her lips savagely, and she gave unquestionably, knowing how much he needed just that. She always knew. He was breathless with the thought._

_Her hands reached for the buttons on his shirt as he pushed her against the wall next to her bedroom, hiking her knee around his waist, thrusting against the cotton barrier of her knickers. Oh, those would have to go. _

_Dropping her leg, Sherlock lowered himself to his knees, dragging the simple underwear with him, drinking in the smell of her skin like a man starved. So distracted by the firm grasp of his right hand on her thigh, she didn't notice the slip of fabric being placed into his pocket with the left. _

_He didn't hesitate to bury his nose in her sex, inhaling her heavy scent before reaching out his tongue to explore the folds._

_Molly groaned, thrusting her nimble fingers into his curls, pulling the way she couldn't possibly know he liked. It wasn't long before she was pulling him away._

"_Bedroom," she breathed, opening the door. He followed her like a lost puppy. _

* * *

The Consulting Detective waited impatiently behind the door of the staff locker room. His fingers fiddled with another lost trifle he'd found in his pocket, yearning for the feel of rolled paper between his fingers. He pulled out the wooden coin and flipped it in the air a few times before hearing the recognizable shuffle of Dr. Molly Hooper's feet down the hall.

She wore her hair to the side, just as he preferred it, and her hand pulled at her obviously strained neck.

_One hand on her breast, pinching her nipple, Molly's other hand travelled up her neck into her hair, holding the strands as her rocking sped up. Sherlock's hands bruisingly grasped her hips as he sat up so he could thrust harder and bite the juncture of her neck above her collarbone. She came when he pulled her hair._

Sherlock smiled into the mirror of Molly's locker as she thrust it open. It took her a moment to see him, then she spun around. The shock was evident on her face.

"Sh-Sherlock! You're back!"

"Observant as always, Molly," but instead of a disdainful scowl, he smiled as he moved forward. Once in front of her, however, he wasn't sure where to put his hands. He settled with holding her forearms while kissing her on the cheek.

She wasn't smiling when he pulled back, and her reaction, no longer shock, was deafening.

_Her short nails scraped down his back as he thrust into her, chanting her name like a prayer. "Molly, Molly, Molly … "_

Out of subconscious preservation, he put distance between them, reluctantly letting go of her.

"Does John know?" She was nervous about something, but he wasn't sure what.

"No, I'm seeing him tonight."

"Oh. He's not at Baker Street anym-"

"I know."

"Oh. Okay." Another long pause, and she started wringing her fingers.

_Sherlock pulled her closer, and as their sweaty limbs tangled, he brushed her hair behind her ear. "Beautiful," he murmured to himself, then looked Molly in the eyes, "I'm afraid to leave. I may not come back."_

"_Then don't go."_

"_I must. I will never be sure if they are - if you are - safe if I don't."_

"_What's the point of all this if you might die anyway?"_

_He shushed her, then kissed her._

"How long until you're off work," he asked, hoping she was just tired.

"Oh, another four hours, I'm working a double shift, say, do you… do you want to meet at a cafe? We should catch up."

"Of course, right, you're working. Come by Baker Street. Tomorrow?"

"Uh, sure, sure."

This time, he kissed her on the lips before spinning and striding out the door. If it went this well with John, life would be back to normal in no time. Sherlock strode out of the hospital with more confidence than he had going in.

* * *

Molly bit her lip as Sherlock sauntered out as if he'd never left two years ago.

_She woke up the next day and he was gone._

Reaching into her purse, she pulled out the small box resting on top of her wallet, stroking the velvet pensively before putting it back, grabbing the bag of crisps, and locking it all up again.


End file.
